


eyes shut (it's you I'm thinking of)

by friday



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-02-12 22:31:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12969801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friday/pseuds/friday
Summary: Of course Jinyoung liked Jaebum, who was handsome and funny and hard-working, and coincidentally his good friend Jackson's ex-boyfriend.





	1. today

**Author's Note:**

> title is from Lykke Li's Little Bit

For the second time that night, Jinyoung considers confessing to Jaebum.

They’re alone in Jaebum and Mark’s tiny kitchen, where the dull thump of music from the living room makes the dishes drying next to the sink shake. Jinyoung leans back against the wall, crumpling the paper of the hanging calendar. From beyond the open doorway leading to the hallway comes the cadence of their friends’ conversation and laughter, Jackson’s screech of laughter in particular piercing through the music.

Jaebum is kneeling on the floor in front of the refrigerator, attempting to liberate the beer Bambam had shoved to the back of his fridge. "Can you help me bring these in?" he asks, victorious, paper case of beer soggy in his hand as he reaches it behind him. He stands up once Jinyoung’s taken the beer, knees cracking. There’s a tidy array of liquor bottles on the shelf above the kitchen counter, and Jaebum eyes the row critically before grabbing a heavy bottle of mezcal.

Jinyoung raises his eyebrows, whistling. Mark had gone to Mexico with his parents on a holiday three months ago, and come back with one duffel bag that contained nothing but two bottles of the smoothest and deadliest liquor Jinyoung had ever tasted, wrapped lovingly in a few layers of Mark’s old Supreme hoodies. “Wow, fancy. You trust Yugyeom and Bambam with that?”

Jaebum snorts, opening a cabinet door in search of cups. “Hell no,” he says, lining up two glasses and carefully pouring an inch into each. He hands one to Jinyoung, touching the lips of their glasses together, his knuckles warm and solid against Jinyoung. “Grown ups only. Cheers.”

Jinyoung shudders as it goes down, which has everything to do with the burn of the alcohol and nothing at all with the way Jaebum makes and holds eye contact with him, winking in one corny, exaggerated motion. It’s annoyingly charming, and Jinyoung has to bite his tongue lest he blurt out something no one needs to hear. _Hey Jaebum. I like you. Take a chance on me?_

Instead, he says, "Wow, I won’t tell the kids you said that."

Jaebum snorts again. “And I won’t tell them you called them kids. Alright, you got the beer?” Jinyoung lifts up the case weighing down his arm, making a face. Jaebum pours out another shot of the nice mezcal, palming it carefully. At Jinyoung’s unasked question, Jaebum says simply, “For Jackson,” with an exasperated fondness, like _duh_ of course it’s for Jackson, who else? Never mind that it’s been years.

—

Jaebum had been in the grade above Jinyoung and Jackson at school, though Jackson complained loudly and often that the two months Jaebum had on him barely counted. Jaebum was—still is—good-looking, which was why Jinyoung took notice of him in their introductory economics course in the first place. But there was something about the arrogant set of his jaw and the way he carried himself that Jinyoung recognized, processed, and wrote off.

But two weeks later, Jinyoung showed up to the treasurer’s clubs and activities budget meeting and watched Jaebum give up his seat so the nervous first year cheer squad girls could sit together. His _no problem_ when they fluttered their thanks was short, but Jinyoung watched him pull the chair out for Chou Tzuyu, undisputed winner of the informal Prettiest First Year poll, and it had made him look, well, nice—well-mannered, actually, and surprisingly not creepy at all.

Jinyoung was there with a senior from the film club as film club treasurer-in-training, newly minted as of that morning when Taecyeon had snagged his hoodie as he was trying to leave and said, "Park Jinyoung. You look responsible. Meet me back here at five."

The treasurer made them do introductions, which was how Jinyoung discovered Jaebum was a second year photography major from Goyang-si, and the founder, captain, and apparently treasurer of the university’s b-boy team. Jinyoung wondered idly if he was, in fact, the only member of the university’s b-boy team, but held his tongue.

Afterwards, Jaebum picked his way through the crowd to come up to the two of them. "Hey, Taecyeon. Could you put me on the mailing list for film club?" he asked, looking through his backpack for a piece of paper to write his email address on. "I meant to sign up last year and forgot.”

Beaming, Taecyeon accepted the torn off corner of looseleaf. "First meeting’s next Thursday," he said, and then shoved the scrap into Jinyoung’s hands. "Jinyoung will get you on the list.” Because, apparently, Jinyoung was also now film club secretary.

Jaebum cut his eyes over to Jinyoung, barely sparing him a glance before they immediately slid back to Taecyeon. "Cool," he said, nodding. "See you around?" This, vaguely, was directed somewhere between the two of them, before he walked off again.

"Ugh," Jinyoung said, folding the paper into halves, and then fourths, shoving it into his hoodie pocket. "That guy’s in my econ lecture. He seems really intense."

“Jaebum’s a film studies major,” Taecyeon said, clapping Jinyoung on the shoulder, which, huh, Jinyoung never would have guessed. “They're all like that.”

 

 _Intense_ , though, was more than enough for Jackson, the floormate Jinyoung had wheedled into coming to the first film club meeting. Jaebum had walked in five minutes early and nodded a cool greeting at Jinyoung before taking a seat in the back corner of the room and pulling out what looked like econ notes. Jackson showed up just as Jinyoung was loading the DVD, flung himself into one of the few chairs still available, making the desk skid a little because Jackson never did anything quietly if he could help it, and glanced over at Jaebum in the seat next to him. And then he looked again.

"Oh my God," Jackson said in max-volume English. "Hey, I know you. Im Jaebum, right?"

A look of confusion passed across Jaebum’s face. "Uh, yeah," he said cautiously. "That’s me. Do I know you?"

Jackson laughed at that, leaning closer—even Jinyoung, up by the projector and distracted by the screech of chairs as everyone found their seats, could tell he was flirting. "Jackson Wang," Jackson said. "First year from Hong Kong. I met you when I visited last year, do you remember? I stayed with Mark. You lived on the same floor as him?"

Jaebum’s expression cleared, and he nodded. "Oh yeah," he said. "I remember you. The rowdy one who got too drunk at his first college party and had to be carried back to Mark’s room by, like, three people? That was a good look on you."

"You would be a good look on me," Jackson said, leering intent clear, which was Jinyoung’s cue to flip the light switch and hit play. Still, when he settled into his own seat next to Jackson, he couldn’t help but hear Jackson’s whisper, just two notches softer than his normal speaking volume, as he asked, "Go out with me sometime?" and Jaebum’s ensuing bark of a laugh: surprised, inelegant, but most importantly, not a ‘no’.

—

Jaebum said yes once and then not again for two long months, running hot and cold and stressing the hell out of Jackson and by extension, Jinyoung. They would get kicked out of no less than four parties in that time for getting too handsy against someone’s kitchen counter, but he always managed to disappear while Jackson was collecting his coat, which meant at least four weekends that Jackson spent in Jinyoung’s bed, having stayed up too late talking about everything except what an asshole Jaebum was, why did Jackson even _like_ him so much, he should just give up, right, he was in the _prime of my life_ , why was he wasting his youth on Jaebum of the grumpy old man face and amazing shoulders—which is to say that was exactly what they talked about.

Jinyoung had never had a male friend so deeply and so vocally in touch with his feelings before Jackson. He wasn’t sure if it was a college thing or if it was a Jackson thing (he suspected the latter), but either way Jackson was the loudest and nicest person Jinyoung had ever met and they became fast and easy friends. Even if they weren’t friends, there was no way not to be affected by Jackson’s moans into the sticky tabletop of their school cafeteria or, once during a really bad Friday night they swore to never, ever talk about again, his frustrated tears in the bathroom after Jaebum had pulled another kiss-and-switch on him.

It was enough to make Jinyoung sidle up to Jaebum at a karaoke party for club reps just before break. He was three drinks in, which was just enough to make him lean in and say, maybe a little too aggressively considering Jaebum was still his senior and had technically done no wrong by him: "What’s your deal, man?" He accompanied this with a nudge to the shoulder that seemed to put Jaebum off his balance.

Jaebum turned to look at Jinyoung, scowl on his face. They weren’t friends, but they weren’t strangers, either. Other than the Jackson thing, they’d also worked on an economics presentation together where Jaebum had been the only group member Jinyoung didn’t want to strangle at the end of it. "What’s _your_ deal?"

Someone knocked into Jinyoung on his other side and he stepped a little closer to Jaebum. He smiled blandly at him, before leaning in to hiss, "Your deal with Jackson, asshole,” at which Jaebum’s scowl dropped into a wince. Good, he wasn’t an idiot then. Jackson’s crush was obvious to all of Jackson and Jinyoung’s friends, most of Jaebum’s friends, and even Jinyoung and Jackson’s shared academic advisor.

"I’m not," Jaebum started, before bringing a hand to his face. "I need a drink," he muttered, and one magically appeared in his hand courtesy of Younghyun, a second-year Jinyoung’s roommate Wonpil had a crush on. Younghyun also deposited one in Jinyoung’s hand, and then threw the two of them a manic grin and thumbs up, walking backwards away. "Uh, okay. Look, I’m not an asshole. I like Jackson, you know. I’ve just been busy."

Jinyoung scoffed, mouth twisting to chase the straw around the rim of his drink. "Yeah, busy being an asshole."

Jaebum rolled his eyes. "Down, Jinyoung. This is your guys’ first semester of college, okay? The first time I met Jackson, he propositioned Mark, and then me, and then threw up on Mark’s shoes. He could just as easily like someone else in a month."

This was too much for Jinyoung, who shoved Jaebum’s shoulder, making his drink slosh. Jaebum was broader than him but that had never been the kind of thing that scared Jinyoung, not even when Jaebum looked at Jinyoung, mouth open in surprise and eyebrows knitting together in a stormy expression. "Wow," Jinyoung said, popping his eyes at him, stretching his mouth into a grim smile. "Congratulations, you suck even more than I thought."

 

Jinyoung’s little speech changed not very much, except that he woke up feeling vaguely embarrassed about having to see Jaebum in economics on Monday. His lingering shame didn’t come to anything besides Jaebum pausing by his seat, mouth open as if he were about to say something, before shaking his head and moving on to his customary seat three rows behind Jinyoung.

In another two weeks Jaebum would properly ask Jackson out, and Jaebum, as far as Jinyoung knew, never brought up their showdown to anyone. In fact, he was jocular with Jinyoung in a way he hadn't been before, as if they weren’t real friends until Jinyoung had shoved him around a little. _Masculinity_ , Jinyoung thought ruefully, a word he’d learned after his eldest sister’s last breakup.

Anyway, Jinyoung doesn’t regret it. Jackson and Jaebum date for the next four years, most of them happy if not without a healthy amount of mutual exasperation. They make it through two graduations, one long distance move to Seoul, and one longer distance move to Hong Kong.

All in all, a heavy burden for anyone to bear, much less a couple as clingy and as impatient as Jackson and Jaebum. It was the last move that hurtled them to the inevitable conclusion they’d been circling around since Jackson’s third year and Jaebum’s last year, when everyone had gotten drunk in anticipation of Jaebum’s birthday and graduation and Jinyoung had come out of the bathroom just in time to hear Jackson say to Jaebum in the karaoke bar hallway, “You know I’m moving back to Hong Kong when I graduate, right?”

Jinyoung had not stuck around for Jaebum’s response, because he had learned the hard way from his sisters not to eavesdrop and because he had been around the last three years and unfortunately had been neither blind nor deaf nor unfeeling for any of it. They were all rooting for Jaebum and Jackson, and Jinyoung was no exception.

Whatever Jaebum’s answer may have been, they held it together for another year even after Jackson’s promised move to Hong Kong, the two of them doing their best to minimize the distance with phone calls, FaceTime, and one visit to Hong Kong that was enthusiastically documented all over SNS. Even reticent Jaebum had posted on Instagram a selca taken in a shop window, Hong Kong’s famous neon lights painting stripes over their face and bodies. Jackson’s white grin was the only discernible feature. The caption had been a simple emoji: two fingers crossed over one another, a promise and a wish for good luck.

—

Jinyoung had moved to Seoul after his February graduation and fucked around for half a year while sleeping on his sister Soyoung’s couch trying different things out before ending up at a small theater, nominally as a programming assistant but in actuality as a little bit of everything, which seemed to be a recurring theme in his professional life.

Besides the theater, he was modeling and acting a little on the side after being scouted in a mall. It was all digital catalogs and commercials, but it was fairly easy and surprisingly steady work. Jinyoung was good-looking in a conventional way, enough that he’d never wanted for romantic attention in his entire life. But he was also practical about his limitations: he was twenty-two and not extraordinarily tall, despite Soyoung’s assurances that on his very best days he looked like a destitute man’s Kim Soohyun. But he worked hard and took criticism well from people he respected, and it kept the work coming enough that he could eventually afford the deposit on a studio apartment in a building his father’s friend owned and not feel too bad about the expense.

Those first few months on his sister’s couch he ended up spending a lot of his time at Mark and Jaebum’s apartment. When Jackson and Jaebum’s friend groups inevitably collided in college, Jinyoung had found himself growing close to easygoing, uncomplicated Mark, whose vibe was that of someone who was also always up and available at two in the morning when Jinyoung wanted to watch TV in silence but not alone.

And okay, yeah, they’d drunkenly hooked up a few times—sue him, Mark was hot, older, and lived in the dorm right next door to theirs, the holy trifecta for a college student—before figuring out they worked better as friends and occasional cuddle buddies.

"Sidekick couple," Mark said once in a rare attempt at wryness, which made Jinyoung roll his eyes and shove him, even though he kind of had a point.

But he and Jaebum became actual, proper friends in those months after Jinyoung’s graduation, building on the foundation of that first semester’s econ lecture and the years that followed of loving the same person, even if one of those loves was platonic and the other romantic. It wasn’t until he had the context of his newfound adulthood that Jinyoung discovered that there were things to like and dislike about Jaebum that had nothing at all to do with Jackson. They had the kind of relationship fostered by mutual affection for the same person, lending them an easy and immediate camaraderie if not necessarily intimacy. At school, if Jackson wasn’t with Jaebum, it was assumed he was with Jinyoung. And the few people who didn’t know Jackson was dating Jaebum always thought Jackson was dating Jinyoung, a misconception Jaebum was jealous of before realizing Jackson's overflowing platonic love for his bros was something he was going to have to get used to, and better sooner than later.

Anyway, it’s not that Jinyoung stopped being friends with Jaebum or something so dramatic after he and Jackson broke up. Jackson was not the kind of person to make him choose sides, nor Jaebum the kind of person to do the same to Mark. Breakups happened all the time, and within friend groups, even. Still, just because Jinyoung wasn't taking sides didn't mean Jackson wasn't one of his best friends; losing his new bromance with Jaebum was regrettable, but overall an acceptable loss to cut. After all, Jackson would’ve done it for him, and more.

—

It had been on Jackson’s visit a few months after Jaebum’s Hong Kong visit when he decided to stay with Jinyoung instead of Jaebum and Mark, that Jinyoung knew.

"It was time," Jackson said, staring up at the ceiling from next to Jinyoung. They were in Jinyoung’s bed together, legs tangled. He stopped there and Jinyoung, who had never known Jackson to use less words when he could use more, grabbed at his hand, feeling unmoored. "Honestly, it was probably time like a year ago." Jackson grimaced, looking at Jinyoung. "You were right. I should’ve just listened to you."

Jinyoung felt guilt spike through him. There were some things you didn’t realize you didn’t want to be right about until you were right about them.

Their senior year of college, Jackson, heady with the swagger of seniority, had more than one run-in with a crafty underclassman who thought that "long-distance" meant "free-for-all," not that Jackson was too clear on the difference himself when drunk. It wasn’t exactly Jinyoung’s business either way, but after he had to rescue Jackson from the advances of some first-year girl for the second time in so many weeks, even he’d gotten mad.

"Jackson. Come on, what the fuck." Jinyoung had been in the middle of a movie, and had to pause it after he got the distress call from Wonpil. He had to throw a coat on over his pajamas, and this blatant disregard for the separation of indoor and outdoor clothes was giving him hives.

Jackson was face down on his bed. His hair was a disaster zone, and the hem of his white shirt was dyed bright red from the punch spilled on him earlier. "It's not like anything _happened_ ," was his sulky, muffled reply.

Jinyoung sighed, chucking a water bottle at the small of Jackson’s back. “What, are you waiting for something to happen? You know I’m on your side, right? You better not make me be on the side of a cheater."

Jackson, who had turned onto his back and had an arm thrown over his eyes as he mouthed at the water bottle, let out a shaky breath. "I know," he said quietly. "It’s just—it’s lonely this year, you know? I miss him, duh, but I want to have fun, too."

Jinyoung knew. He sat down next to Jackson, running a hand through his sticky hair. He liked Jaebum, would under threat of extreme bodily harm admit that he loved Jackson, and thought the two of them shone brightly in the otherwise emotionally destitute landscape of college relationships. But he could admit to himself in that moment that Jaebum had a point at that karaoke party so many years ago. Jackson had thrown himself into the relationship because he never did anything by halves, and Jaebum was the same way. He wasn’t as over the top about it as Jackson was, but Jaebum’s determination was no joke. They were serious so quickly there had been a three week stretch when they first started dating when Jinyoung didn’t see Jackson at all, and Mark, who was living with Jaebum that year, adopted a haunted look.

At the beginning of this school year, Jackson had seemed lost without a handler for all his energy, although that was quickly replaced by surprise that there was now a whole fourth of the student population who didn’t know anything about his and Jaebum’s relationship, as well-known for its steadiness as it was for its volubility.

Jackson was good-looking, gregarious, and threw a great party. It made sense that without Jaebum’s constant presence as reminder, both those who’d carried a torch for him for years and those who’d only met him recently were emboldened. Jackson was only human, and one who thrived on attention and adoration at that. It was almost too much of a good thing at once. Jackson had always been well-known and well-liked, but Jinyoung saw the way Jackson responded to his new influx of popularity and couldn’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if Jaebum had just turned him down way back in first year. Who either of them could’ve been, who else Jackson might’ve loved.

"No one’s saying you can’t have fun," Jinyoung said, feeling sorry now for having meddled. "I want you to have fun. Jaebum wants you to have fun, too. I just don’t want you to do something fun now that’ll make both of you sad later."

To that, Jackson said, “But I think I am sad now,” except he said it so quietly Jinyoung pretended he didn’t hear it because he was twenty-one and it was two in the morning and he didn’t want to confront the fact that the happiest couple he knew maybe wasn’t all that happy after all. He stayed the night that night, curling his body around Jackson’s in the too-small twin bed.

Jackson woke up the next day and made Jinyoung an enthusiastic, sloppy breakfast that required more cleanup than was worth it. The whole breakfast production seemed to indicate he didn’t want to talk about it, and so Jinyoung thought he was being a good friend by letting it go.

But now, with Jackson in his bed, an echo of that time so many years ago, Jinyoung wished he’d said the magical right thing back then that would have saved Jackson the sadness that was emanating from him in waves.

"Do you regret it?" Jinyoung finally asked. He wasn’t sure which he was asking after—the extra year, sustained by Skype sex sessions and shouting matches over the phone, followed by periods of iciness that they always managed to thaw before their next trip, of which there were few and never long enough, the inevitable breakup, or maybe just the entire relationship.

Jackson curled into Jinyoung’s side, burying his face in Jinyoung’s neck and throwing an arm around his middle. When Jackson exhaled, his breath was hot where it hit Jinyoung’s skin.

"I don’t," Jackson said. “Never.”

—

Three weeks after Jackson visits Seoul, Jinyoung gets an Instagram DM. He thumbs it open to find a selca of Jackson on a filming set, a vaguely familiar-looking television host next to him. Before he can even start to react to it, his phone vibrates with an incoming message. 

> **bambam1a** : HOLY SHIT HE JIONG?!?!?!?!  
>  **jacksonwang852** : hehe the one and only~ BAAAM!

Typical Bambam, whose celebrity facial recognition was unparalleled. It came out that, through a comedy of errors, Jackson had been tapped to guest on a fairly popular mainland game show in his capacity as an assistant fencing coach. There were forty-two people in the group DM, and with all group anythings that included both Bambam and Jackson, it soon devolved into them sharing memes back and forth.

Somewhere in between Jackson’s selca with He Jiong and Jinyoung finally leaving the group because he couldn’t handle the notifications anymore, Jinyoung noticed, completely naturally, that Jackson hadn’t included Jaebum in the DM.


	2. tomorrow

Jinyoung heard what he thought was his name and ignored it, since he was at least two and a half drinks deep and he usually couldn’t be trusted after drink two, but when he heard it called _again_ he did a double-take and saw, of all people who could conceivably be waving at him from a booth that had been heretofore hidden in a shadowy alcove on the other side of the bar, Jaebum.

“Jinyoung,” Jaebum said again in a more moderate tone of voice as Jinyoung got closer. He sounded as delighted as Jinyoung had ever heard Jaebum. “What the hell. I haven't seen you in forever. Get over here.”

It hadn’t exactly been forever, since Jinyoung had seen Jaebum just two weeks ago, in his own home even, where Jinyoung and Mark had stopped so Mark could grab an umbrella on their way to the movies. They’d waved at each other, Jinyoung hovering in the doorway so he wouldn’t track mud in and Jaebum a disembodied torso in the living room craning itself to look at who’d interrupted his drama-watching, though that was pretty much the extent of their interactions since Jaebum and Jackson broke up months ago.

“Jaebum,” Jinyoung said. With a mixture of guilt and the general pleasure that comes with unexpectedly seeing a friend you liked but hadn’t seen for a long time, mostly by design, he pulled Jaebum in for a manly chest thump, sloshing his peach soju and beer cocktail onto his sleeve. “Oh, hey,” he said, noticing now that he’d rounded the side of the booth the person sitting across from Jaebum.

"Oh, sorry," Jaebum said, gesturing to his friend. "This is Choi Youngjae. We work together." Jaebum was a teacher at an alternative education middle school, which meant that he could teach twelve-year-olds how to b-boy and call it gym.

"Youngjae, nice to meet you. I'm Jinyoung," Jinyoung said. He reached out for a handshake, before deciding that was too dorky and switched gears to a high five at the last second instead. Youngjae, who had anticipated the handshake, poked Jinyoung in the palm with his nails. Having witnessed this entire interaction, Jaebum doubled over with laughter.

“Oh, shut up,” Jinyoung said, only a little embarrassed. His peach soju and beer was obviously a lost cause at this point, so he set it down and then, facing Youngjae again, waved his hand in Jaebum’s direction. "Sorry, me and this loser over here went to university together. I hope I’m not interrupting anything…?”

“‘Loser’?" Jaebum asked in mock-anger, tugging Jinyoung to get into the booth. “I hope you’re not talking about me? Yah, Park Jinyoung, I didn’t realize we’d gotten so comfortable in all the time we haven’t seen each other.”

“We saw each other two weeks ago,” Jinyoung reminded him. After the slightest pause, he threw an arm around Jaebum’s shoulders, even though he wasn’t strictly sure if they were on arm-around-shoulders terms. It felt surprisingly good; normal. Jaebum rolled his eyes, but he looked appeased. Casually, Jinyoung lifted his arm off Jaebum’s shoulders to swipe his beer, taking a swig and then sliding it to the edge of the table, just out of Jaebum’s reach.

Youngjae cheers-ed him for that, giggling at the way Jaebum sputtered. “Calm down, the next round’s on me,” Jinyoung said, and then turned in his seat in the direction of the bar. “Oh wait, perfect—Bambam, Yugyeom, look who it is! Bring your hyungs a pitcher, okay?”

Jaebum had turned his head so quickly he and Jinyoung almost collided at the pass. "No fucking way," he said. “Bambam and Yugyeom?”

It was indeed Bambam and Yugyeom, who had been freshmen when Jaebum was a senior—a big enough age gap that Jaebum shouldn’t really have known them, but Bambam had been paired with Jackson for an international students mentorship program that had done maybe too good of a job matchmaking, and Yugyeom had been an enthusiastic and, by all accounts, very good member of the dance team. He and Bambam were seniors now, bunking together in Yugyeom’s room at home for the summer while Yugyeom took online classes and ran around with his old dance crew and Bambam did some interpretation and translation work for the Thai embassy, a job that connoted a responsibility so at odds with the Bambam Jinyoung knew that he had actually laughed out loud when he heard about it.

“Jaebum-hyung!” Yugyeom all but shrieked when he turned around and saw him, pitcher almost slipping out of his hands. So that was that—Bambam and Yugyeom, who were here crashing Jinyoung’s work happy hour as they had every other week for the last month, squeezed in next to a resigned but affable Youngjae while Jinyoung settled back in next to Jaebum, their thighs just barely touching.

“So, you on babysitting duty or something?” Jaebum asked after introductions and catch-up, artfully dodging the kick Yugyeom aimed at him under the table. “I know it’s been awhile, but I didn’t realize you’d made such a big career change. Congratulations.”

“ _Someone_ has to be the responsible one,” Jinyoung sniffed, and then ruined his own point by landing an elbow for Yugyeom. Yugyeom cheered and Jinyoung kicked him under the table, more out of reflex than anything. “Yah, mind your manners, Yugyeom-ah,” he said, when Yugyeom looked at him, betrayed.

Jaebum still had that same graceless laugh, a sudden bark that always surprised Jinyoung with the force of it. “My hero,” he said, grinning with one side of his mouth.

Jinyoung put his nose in the air. “Don’t get used to it, I charge.” Then he lowered his voice and leaned in, “Really though. I’m not, you know, crashing a hot date or something, am I?” He raised his eyebrows in what he hoped was a significant manner, though he’d possibly ruined it by enunciating _hot date_ in English.

Jaebum shifted closer, their knees pressing together for real. Jinyoung was surprised to feel a jolt in his gut. “It’s fine, really. Youngjae started training last month and he’s been doing really well. Thought he could use the encouragement, is all.” Youngjae, who across the table was laughing hysterically at some video Bambam was showing him on his phone, had flicked enough glances Jaebum’s way that Jinyoung wasn’t convinced Youngjae might not take this as a different kind of encouragement, but Jinyoung would let it go. “Also, _hot date_? Who are you, Jackson?”

Reflexively, Jinyoung tensed a little, moving his knees away from Jaebum’s.

Jaebum caught it. “What? I’m not allowed to say Jackson’s name now?” he asked, his grin widening when he saw Jinyoung’s face, which was confirmation enough. He put his knee back on Jinyoung’s, nudged him in the ribs. “Hey, we just broke up, you know? No big deal, it happens. It’s not like he insulted Nora or something unforgivable.”

“Ugh,” Jinyoung said, because he wasn’t going to grace _no big deal_ with a response. “Don’t take Nora’s name in vain.”

“No, but seriously,” Jaebum said. He was smiling with his whole mouth now, teeth and all. “We still, like, follow each other on Instagram and stuff. I’m really happy for everything that's going on for him.”

Jackson, a hit on He Jiong’s show, had seen his newfound TV career skyrocket in the last seven months, to the surprise of absolutely no one who had ever spent more than five minutes with him—Jackson played the fool with aplomb but he was also one of the kindest and cleverest people Jinyoung knew. It was a one-in-a-million story that would have seemed improbable if the person in question had been anyone other than Jackson, who took to attention the same way Jinyoung’s skin did to a sheet mask after a long flight. Instagram user @jacksonwang852 had just hit 250,000 followers this past week to match the cool million he had on Weibo, both of which he’d commemorated with a sentimental, rambling post in three different languages. Jinyoung had proofread the Korean translation for him, laughing out loud no less than two times.

Jaebum continued, “Did you think I’ve been at home crying or something? Hey, is that why you stopped coming around?” He grabbed the back of Jinyoung’s neck in mock-anger, his thigh pressing even closer against Jinyoung’s.

He was _flirting_ , Jinyoung realized all of a sudden, face growing warm. Jaebum had always been stupid handsome. That, and his stubbornness, was the reputation that had preceded him in college, one that earned Jackson more than a few dirty looks when he and Jaebum started going out. Half of Jackson’s friends had joked about having crushes on Jaebum, and Jackson always fronted like he hated it, but there was no way for him to hide his smugness. He’d protest, kick at Wonpil whenever he pretended to swoon, but curled his hand in Jaebum’s collar when he inevitably came by looking for him to haul him in for a quick and dirty kiss. It never mattered where they were, and Jinyoung got the feeling Jackson actually enjoyed it more with an audience.

“We-ell,” Jinyoung said with a drawl, leaning back against his seat so Jaebum was forced to drop his hand. “I’m not saying you should shoot the messenger or anything, but a little birdy named Mark Tuan did tell me a certain someone was being reeeeally pathetic, and that I should only come over if I wanted to lose my lunch, so.”

That laugh again. “Right. Because that sounds exactly like Mark. I promise I’ve got the crying’s under control now, so come around soon, okay?” He looked at Jinyoung like there was only one answer he was expecting, half-smiling and half-lidded.

Jaebum really was very handsome. Jinyoung had swooned in college, right along with Wonpil, and like Wonpil, it had only mostly been a joke. Helpless, he nodded.

—

Jinyoung was fully intending to honor his promise to see Jaebum more the same way he always fully intended to honor promises like flossing or calling his mother daily: with good, but futile, intentions. But Jaebum’s conviction turned out to be made of much stronger stuff, and he texted Jinyoung the next morning, as promised.

They went out for a long dinner, and then wandered aimlessly on the streets, eating one, two, three ice creams each, trying to one up each other. They followed a group of pretty girls on a mutual dare to get a phone number into a store where everything inside was in miniature. Jinyoung held up a mini basketball that looked hilariously comical between his fingers, and Jaebum found a cat that he bought on the spot because despite his gruff exterior he was a soft touch. They got so caught up taking stupid pictures in the bathroom accessories section they didn’t even notice when the group of girls left until the door closed with a cheerful jingle behind them, and then they had to eat one more ice cream each since they both failed.

They ducked into an arcade after that and Jaebum got so mad about Jinyoung beating him at basketball, he chucked a ball at his head. It missed, partly because Jaebum wasn’t actually trying to murder Jinyoung in a Hongdae arcade but mostly because Jinyoung was doubled over, almost crying with laughter at the tantrum.

It was fun, absurdly so. When Jinyoung got home, his teeth and stomach hurt from all the sugar they’d consumed and all the laughing he’d done.

It wasn’t until he’d washed up and safely tucked into bed that Jinyoung let himself indulge and think about the way Jaebum’s hand had felt on his shoulder when he pulled him out of the way of a group of slow-moving aunties. He fell asleep warm and woke up happy.

—

The first time Jinyoung thought, with clarity, _yes. Im Jaebum_ , it was during hour 6 of Bambam and Yugyeom’s back-to-school 24-hour karaoke bonanza, enthusiastically hosted by none other than Bambam and Yugyeom. Jinyoung had been lucky enough to receive the invitation from Yugyeom in person, and the conversation had gone something like this:

“Jinyoung-hyung! We’re throwing a karaoke party before we have to go back to school. It’s starting at 11 in the morning and ending at 11 in the morning the next day! Stop by whenever!”

“But _why_?”

“Uh, duh? When are we going to get the chance to karaoke for 24 hours once we’re back to school?”

“But why karaoke? And why 24 hours?”

“Sorry Jinyoung-hyung. I’m not following.”

And so on.

"Wow, kids these days," Jaebum said mildly, slipping through the karaoke room door to knock shoulders with Jinyoung, who was leaning against the wall so as not to get caught in the fight over the song remote. Jinyoung had decided to stop by on his way home from work, and it seemed Jaebum had had the same idea. Bambam and Yugyeom had managed to collect a sizable audience, probably aided in part by Bambam’s minor Instagram fame, achieved mostly through sheer doggedness and volume. He was currently _livestreaming_ Yugyeom enthusiastically breaking his voice on a Zion.T song. They made Jinyoung feel decrepit and lifeless.

“Kids these days,” Jinyoung mimicked, dropping his voice in a facsimile of Jaebum’s before raising it to his normal pitch again. “I can’t believe you just said that. Do you even hear yourself?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jaebum said, laughing, but he still shoved Jinyoung hard enough for him to almost topple over. “Don’t pretend like the reason you don’t post on Instagram isn’t because you’re too cool for it, but you don’t know how to use it right and you’re too embarrassed to ask Bambam.”

Bulls, and eye. Still, Jinyoung had a reputation to maintain. “I mean, you think posting over-filtered photos of your sneakers is the right way to use Instagram, so I think I’m good,” he shot back, but nudged Jaebum’s shoulder to show he wasn’t trying to be mean. He glanced over just as Jaebum did, and they made eye contact as the red of the strobe light passed over them, illuminating the expression on Jaebum’s face for a split second. Intellectually, Jinyoung knew it was still light outside from where he’d just come half an hour prior but inside, an intrepid someone, most likely Bambam, had flipped all the switches except for the strobes and the disco machine. Six was a little early to start drinking, especially on an empty stomach, but lingering eye contact with Jaebum set to the soundtrack of Bambam’s off-pitch Big Bang cover seemed like acceptable grounds for a beer or two.

“Drink?” he asked Jaebum, miming the action to hide the warmth rising in his face.

“Yeah, good call,” Jaebum said, just as Bambam’s enthusiastic dance moves led him to stomp all over Jinyoung’s foot. “Wow, G-Dragon’s just rolling over in his grave, isn’t he.”

“ _You take that back!_ ” Bambam shrieked into the microphone. “Don’t take G-Dragon-sunbaenim’s name in vain!” A chorus of cheers followed his declaration.

“And that’s my cue,” Jaebum said. “What can I get you?” he asked, looking expectantly at Jinyoung.

 _I like you_ , Jinyoung almost said right then, and even opened his mouth to get the first syllable out before he remembered where he was and who he was talking to and regained control over his faculties.

He was surprised by how voluntary it was, and how unsurprising.

"Jinyoung?" Jaebum asked again, with a tilt of his head. His eyes, impossibly, flicked to Jinyoung’s mouth.

Jinyoung didn’t want to think about what that meant, or could mean, or might mean. "Whatever you’re having," he said, shaking the electricity off his skin and smiling his commercial smile at Jaebum. "Hey, when you’re back, wanna do this next song with me? Show these kids what we’ve got."

—

**jacksonwang852 sent you a story by bambam1a**

> **jacksonwang852** : U AND JAEBUM????  
>  this is how I find out???  
>  are we best friends or not, park jinyoung!!!!!!!!!
> 
> **pepi_jy_** : Wait what  
>  We were just at karaoke together.  
>  Don’t make it weird..  
>  Yah, Jackson  
>  ❤️  
>  Shit, hit the heart by mistake
> 
> **jacksonwang852** : ok ok ok sorry man  
>  but u guys would be good together tho????  
>  hehehehehe :P  
>  hey hope ur ready for my visit!!!!!  
>  dibs on your bed!!!!!! jackson wang does NOT sleep on couches  
>  ❤️  
>  :)
> 
> **pepi_jy_** : You’re lucky if I let you sleep on the floor.  
>  ❤️ 

—

Jackson called dibs on Jinyoung’s bed weeks in advance, but Jinyoung would’ve let him have it anyway, since he was only spending one night with Jinyoung of the seven days he was going to be in Seoul. There was a broadcasting company who’d taken note of Jackson’s growing Korean fanbase and was eager to cut him a fat check for various hosting and guesting gigs. They were footing the bill for a stay at The Shilla and Jackson had tacked on another two nights to spend with his mom, which left only one night at Jinyoung’s. And even that was in the loosest sense—of course, the first thing Jackson demanded when he announced that he was visiting was a party, preferably with all their friends in attendance. Not impossible but certainly troublesome. Except some people were born under luckier stars than others, so Jackson’s visit just so happened to coincide exactly with Mark’s birthday and Jackson was a lot of things but he was always willing to share the spotlight.

Jaebum had planned the pre-party for Mark at their apartment and when he found out Jackson would be here too, he had told Jinyoung, _and invite Jackson, too. If he wants_. Jackson had wanted.

When Jaebum opened his apartment door for the two of them, there had been a moment when Jinyoung, helpless, watched something awfully familiar cross Jaebum’s face. He was suddenly very aware that this was the first time they’d seen each other since they broke up. And then Jackson was moving out from next to him, throwing his arms around Jaebum.

"It’s good to see you," he said, voice clear as he thumped Jaebum’s back. "Thanks for inviting me."

Jaebum’s arms tightened as a reflex where they were around Jackson’s waist, before he gently disentangled himself. "Always," he said. "Good to see you, too. Where’s my present?"

"Fuck off," Jackson said, easy. "I'm here, aren't I?"

They grinned at each other, and Jinyoung felt relief. And then—lightning quick—regret.

—

So that’s how Jinyoung finds himself with Jaebum in the kitchen, mouth tingling from mezcal and the unspoken confession. He follows him down the hallway and back into the living room, busier now that Mark’s work friends have shown up. Someone, probably Jackson, has commandeered the playlist, background music all slick flow and heavy bass.

As if summoned, Jackson turns up next to him. His eyes are bright and his smile a little crazed. He’s stripped his hoodie off since they arrived, and there's sweat dampening the armpits of his white undershirt. It’s warm in Mark and Jaebum’s apartment, sure, but Jackson has always run hot.

“Where’d you and Jaebum disappear off to?” Jackson asks, exaggerating his mouth into a pout. “You can see him whenever you want! I came all this way to see you.”

Laughing, Jinyoung pushes the glass in his hand against Jackson’s mouth, which opens obligingly, tongue curling out to dip into the liquid and also to swipe at Jinyoung’s knuckle. “You are shameless,” Jinyoung tells him, wiping his hand on Jackson’s shirt.

“You love me best,” Jackson replies, serene, which is besides the point but also. Yeah.

—

True to his word, Jinyoung lets Jackson have his bed, but he crawls in right after him, just managing to kick off his pants and pull his sweater off over his head. It’s ass o’clock in the morning, and Jinyoung had lost count somewhere after shot number seven, so there was no way he was sleeping anywhere but a bed. It’s too warm under the covers with the both of them, but just as Jinyoung considers complaining, he falls asleep.

He wakes up the next morning at half past eleven, wincing at the way his sheets stick to his body courtesy of the liters of alcohol he’d consumed and subsequently sweat out in the night. Over the valley of his comforter, the lump of Jackson’s body rumbles, then turns, toppling the sheets piled between them. "Ugh," Jackson moans, one arm reaching around to slap at his arm. "Why did you let this happen to me?" he asks, voice a demolition zone. "Make it stop."

Jinyoung is inclined to agree. There is a pounding in his head that feels like a boy band of no less than nine members, each practicing their own separate choreography routines. And if he has to take another whiff of his own breath, he was going to throw up. What even was the point of Jackson visiting if he wasn’t going to remember half their time together?

Jinyoung counts to ten—okay, fifty—before swinging his legs out of bed and padding to his bathroom. There, he pulls the shower lever and counts again before taking the plunge. It gets the boy band down to three members, but it also leaves Jinyoung gasping and with brain freeze. He towels off, brushes his teeth, and fills his gargling cup with water.

"Over," he says, getting back in bed after curling the fingers of Jackson’s sole mobile limb around the cup. "Now you can never say I did nothing for you."

Jackson downs the entire cup with one swallow, before groping around for a level surface to set the empty cup on. He slides back under the sheets, and Jinyoung has to laugh; he hasn’t even seen Jackson’s face yet this morning, and he’s leaving in four hours. After a few seconds of his semi-hysterical laughter, a hand appears under the comforter on Jinyoung’s side.

" _Help me!_ ” it says, fingers wriggling. " _I’m stuck! Have you come to save the princess? Only the brave of heart and pure of soul can pass. Also, the hot of body._ " And then Jackson tried to feel up Jinyoung’s bicep, wildly overshooting and getting a handful of damp armpit hair instead. "Ugh, gross."

Jinyoung grabs at Jackson’s hand. He pulls until Jackson kicks all the blankets aside and his face finally comes into view, pillow-creased and drool-stained. Sometime in the last month or two, Jackson had dyed his hair a soft yellow, his roots growing back in already, black and shiny with grease. There are shadows under his eyes that make him look a little like he’s recovering from being punched, and a lot like he’d stayed out doing shots and maybe even dancing on a table with a group of co-eds at some point, Jinyoung isn’t at liberty to say.

This is Jackson at his most unkempt, his most vulnerable. It is a Jackson Jinyoung once knew better than anyone else in the world. He can’t help but lean forward and bury his face in the warm muscle of Jackson’s shoulder. He takes a deep breath, and is hit with the dull scent of Jackson’s natural odor, mixed with the slightly sour smell of sweat-soaked alcohol. It is disgusting. And, impossibly, Jinyoung had missed this.

They lay there like that, Jinyoung’s head pillowed on Jackson’s shoulder, their fingers tangled together somewhere between them. He keeps drifting in and out of consciousness, Jackson’s other hand drifting up to scratch absentmindedly across his scalp.

"Hey," Jackson says, his voice soft and affectionate by Jinyoung’s ear.

"Mm?" Jinyoung murmurs, consciousness on the downswing.

"You know you’re one of my best friends, right?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“And that, like, you can tell me anything, right?”

“Sure, Jackson.”

“I would trust you with my life. Or, like, most of my life.” Here, Jackson pauses significantly. “And I hope you trust me, too.”

The sun is hot where it is filtering through Jinyoung’s window, warming the comforter covering them. One of them had, at some point last night, had remembered to plug in Jinyoung’s barely-touched oil diffuser for some unknown reason, which was honestly impressive considering there is a sneaker kicked onto Jinyoung’s dresser. Now Jinyoung’s whole apartment smells pleasingly of jasmine. Jackson’s flight is in three and a half hours now, and though they’d made a reservation for a new barbecue place when Jackson was planning his trip, Jinyoung knows that they definitely aren’t going to get out of bed for at least another hour.

He’s going to end up calling for takeout fried chicken while Jackson showers and uses up half of Jinyoung’s expensive conditioner, steam trailing him out of the bathroom just in time for the too-big order of chicken and soda to arrive. They’ll spend another half hour groaning after eating, and then Jackson will have to book it to his flight, which he’ll make, of course, even if Jackson Wang has to undertake the extremely arduous task of having to charm a whole cadre of airline attendants.

“Okay,” Jinyoung says slowly. “Thanks for saying that. I mean, same. You know I trust you.”

“But do you _really_?” Jackson asks, eyes wide.

“Yes?” Jinyoung responds. “Did you hit your head last night?”

They stare at each other for a few seconds. Jinyoung cracks first.

“What’s up, Jackson?”

Immediately, Jackson looks guilty. He’s best at emotional subterfuge when he’s not conscious he’s doing it. Not a single cunning bone in his body, or at the most maybe something like two cunning bones. They usually leave that up to Jinyoung.

“Nothing,” Jackson says, a reflex, then makes a face. “I mean, no, not nothing.”

Jinyoung gives him a second—it’s not often that Jackson is at a loss for words, or rather that he’s weighed all the options available to him and decided silence is the best route. The best approach is total neutrality. “Then what is it, Jackson?” he asks.

“Okay,” Jackson says very quickly, like he’s decided he just has to get it out. “Look, promise you won’t get mad at me”—Jinyoung makes a face, he hates making promises like that because it’s only setting himself up for failure—”or okay, fine, I know you said it was nothing and like, I believe you because duh, best friend, but I’m just _saying_ that sometimes, you know, even the most aware people aren’t super aware of everything and you’re like one of the most aware people I know—which is totally a compliment, by the way—”

“Jackson,” Jinyoung says loudly. “The point?”

“—anyway, what I’m trying to say is—Jaebum. Jaebum is the point.” And with that, Jackson snaps his mouth shut. His hand is tight around Jinyoung’s.

“Your mom is the point,” Jinyoung says weakly. Jackson doesn’t even work up a scowl at that, just looks at him.

“Ughhhh,” Jinyoung groans, pulling his comforter up over his face. “Jackson. I was really, really hoping we wouldn’t have to talk about this. Like, _really_.”

Jackson does not take the hint, and in fact sounds hurt, but maybe not about the thing Jinyoung would’ve expected him to feel hurt by. “What, why? Look, I know we don’t live in the same city anymore but there’s LINE and email and Instagram and stuff and I tell you almost everything that happens to me still.”

“There’s nothing interesting to report about a crush that’s not going to go anywhere,” Jinyoung mumbles.

“What do you mean, not going to go anywhere? I think you’re pretty Jaebum’s type. I would know.” He clasps both hands around Jinyoung’s, looking earnest, as if the real issue here was Jinyoung’s lack of self-esteem.

Jinyoung squints up at Jackson. “Uh, because you’re my best friend and I would never do that to you? Why are we having this conversation? Isn’t this totally a conflict of interest?”

Jackson squints back at him. “It’s not a conflict of _my_ interest. What, is Jaebum dating someone else or something? Because cheating is pretty shitty, so maybe wait for that to be over before you make a move.”

Jinyoung barely understands what Jackson is saying right now, and he has to wonder if maybe Jackson’s Korean is just really bad now, so he says, slowly and loudly, “Jackson. I would never date your ex.”

Something passes over Jackson’s face, the briefest sadness. And that right there, plus the familiar press of Jaebum’s fingers at the small of Jackson’s back last night, is why Jinyoung’s is a crush that will go nowhere.

“Well, you’re the one who said it,” Jackson says, sticking his tongue out at Jinyoung. “Ex. We’re definitely not a thing anymore, trust me. Also, it’s been like _years_.”

It's been like one year, but Jackson hates it when Jinyoung’s pedantic. “So let me get this straight,” Jinyoung says, sitting up. “You’re telling me that it’s okay I have a crush on the ex-boyfriend that you once called the love of your life, _and_ you’re telling me to go for it?”

“Okay, it sounds kind of bad when you say it like that,” Jackson says. “But—I mean, yeah, if it’ll make you happy. Hell yeah. Full speed ahead. Good luck, godspeed, and hey, I’ll even throw in a pro tip for free: the head of Jaebum’s dick is—”

“Okay,” Jinyong interrupts, blush flooding his cheeks. “I get it. Thanks, Jackson.”

Jackson grins at him, and they lie back down against Jinyoung’s pillows. Their hands are still entangled.

“I mean it,” Jackson says softly, interrupting the lull. “I can feel you overthinking it from here. I can’t vouch for Jaebum, but don’t let your weird ideas about me stop you.”

Jinyoung doesn’t say anything, only squeezes Jackson’s hand, hoping it conveys the magnitude of his gratefulness. He lets himself indulge in the moment, in the small, secret crush he’s been trying not to harvest these past few months. And then, because he can’t help himself, he asks, voice coming out this side of pathetic, “And do you really think? Jaebum would?”

Jackson, a better person than Jinyoung ever will be, grins and crosses his eyes at him. “For sure. You know, Jaebum and I always said you’d be the third person in our ideal threesome."

Jinyoung rolls his eyes at that, shoving Jackson against the wall. “I hate you,” he laughs. “You already told me in college it was Mark. Now get the fuck up and shower, your flight’s in two hours.”

—

Unfortunately, despite the perhaps too-enthusiastic green light from Jackson, you still cannot bend a fundamentally unwilling character. Jinyoung has many good points but reckless self-confidence is not and has never been one of them. Jinyoung’s felt the lingering line of Jaebum’s body against his enough times that while he’s intellectually aware his crush probably isn’t completely unreciprocated, translating that into action is just, no. Don’t even think about it, absolutely not, dial tone taken out back and shot. Error 404, page so lost it’s in Siberia.

“Dude, you have to tell him,” Jackson keeps urging him over video call, because in typical Jackson fashion, he’d taken Jinyoung falling for his ex-boyfriend and spun it somehow into incontrovertible proof of their friendship compatibility quotient and, incidentally, his superior taste since he’d gotten there first. “Back me up here, Mark.”

While Jinyoung would’ve liked to keep the news of his crush strictly between himself, Jackson, and God, he had felt guilty enough about the whole situation that he’d caved with very little fight when Jackson argued that they needed to recruit Mark to the cause, even though, _wait, what cause?_

Mark had taken the news with his usual chill, despite Jinyoung sweating bullets as he stammered through it and Jackson blowing up his phone with texts of _so did you tell him yet????? did you???????????? jinyoung, i’m dying!!!!!!!!!_ all the while. His lack of response, especially in the face of Jackson’s excess of response, had been both validating and extremely frustrating, which was a pretty succinct summary of Jinyoung’s entire friendship with Mark.

Mark, who’s currently slouched into the arm of his couch where they were supposed to watch a movie before Jackson’s video call interrupted, makes a muffled sound around the ice cream bar in his mouth that could either be _mm, Jaebum is definitely in love with Jinyoung_ or _mm, no way in hell, haha, just give it up now_. Total coin toss.

“Okay but, come on,” Jackson says. There’s a lag in their video call that means while his voice rings out loud and clear, Jinyoung finds himself staring at a static, pixelated image of Jackson on his computer screen for a few seconds before it finally jumps back to life. “Mark, you live with him. You guys must talk about that stuff. Look, it’s okay, you can tell me. I can keep a secret.” And here, Jackson honest-to-goodness cups his hand around his ear, bringing his face closer to his screen.

Mark laughs, crumpling the wrapper around the popsicle stick and shoving it into his hoodie pocket, which makes Jinyoung wince. “Jackson, I can see your earwax when you do that. Gross.”

It’s enough to distract Jackson, which Jinyoung is infinitely grateful for. Despite it all, he can’t help but notice that Mark doesn’t answer the question.

 

There was one thing:

“So why do you even like him anyway?” Mark had asked, with a tilt of his head. “I mean, you’ve known him as long as I have. He’s short-tempered, he always sleeps in and then gets mad at me for not waking him up even though he yelled at me last time I tried to wake him up, and he’s stubborn. I get why Jackson thought he was hot, but that was, like, college.”

There were a lot of things Jinyoung could have said in response to this: Jaebum’s shoulders, Jaebum’s unwavering pride, his playfulness. His streak of kindness, all the brighter for how unexpected it is, and how little attention he calls to it. Jaebum pulling out the chair for Chou Tzuyu all the way back in Jinyoung’s freshman year. Jaebum taking the blame for so many of Jackson and Jinyoung’s pranks in college, never gracefully, but hey, he still did it. His shoulders, again. The regret in his voice when he recounted how he’d yelled at Youngjae for double-booking himself for after school activities, and the fact that he now oversees an acapella group three days a week because he didn’t want to let some thirteen-year-olds down. And if Jinyoung was being honest with himself, the way Jaebum had loved Jackson—so well and for so long—was a big part of it, too.

“Well,” Jinyoung said instead. “You know. All the usual reasons.”

—

When Jinyoung dreams that night, it’s of summer. Cold teeth, sweaty brows. Jaebum pushing his hair back, a drop of sweat landing on Jinyoung’s bare arm. The bark of his laugh when Jinyoung points it out to him.

—

He wakes up to the clatter of metal chopsticks hitting kitchen tile.

“Sorry.” Jaebum looks sheepish, lifting a bowl of rice from the microwave. “Do you want some tea?”

Jaebum always over-steeps his tea, but, “Okay,” Jinyoung says, blinking, feeling around under his pillow for his phone. It’s nine in the morning. He and Mark had stayed up late watching exactly half of The Godfathers trilogy last night before Mark, weakling that he was, begged off, citing tiredness. Jinyoung had watched the rest of The Godfathers II, fallen asleep on Mark and Jaebum’s frankly uncomfortable couch at half past four, and dreamt.

“How are _you_ awake?” Jinyoung asks, sitting up so Jaebum can sit down, bowl of leftovers in hand. Jinyoung notices the blanket draped around him that definitely hadn’t been there last night.

“Yah,” Jaebum says, but it’s half-hearted. He picks up the remote, gestures at the TV in a question that Jinyoung shrugs at, too busy stealing a bite of Jaebum’s fried rice.

They watch Sandara Park sing noraebang with some teens she met on the bus while Jaebum’s foot rests heart-stoppingly close to Jinyoung’s thigh, inching closer every time he laughs.

It could be so easy to do—something, anything. Maybe grab Jaebum’s ankle, and swipe a thumb down the jut of his bone. It’s a stupid detente Jinyoung is stuck at, with his pride on one side and his desire on the other.

Just as he’s thinking about going for it, Jaebum says, with a casualness too studied to be genuine, “Jackson called me last night to, ah, talk about things.”

Jinyoung reacts so violently that his phone flies off the couch, hitting the leg of the coffee table. He’s not fooling anyone when he says, “Oh, cool.”

He’s wondering how he can convince Jaebum that Jackson’s been hijacked by his newfound fame and therefore can’t be trusted, when Jaebum says, with a laugh, “Yeah. He asked me what my deal was, and then told me to stop being an asshole, and then told me to go for it. Sound familiar?”

Jinyoung is literally speechless, and he might actually combust, his face is so hot. The blanket that probably Jaebum had put on him this morning, feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. “Oh,” he manages.

“Yeah,” Jaebum says. When Jinyoung works up the courage to slide his eyes slight over to his left, Jaebum’s looking at him, lazy smirk on his face. His hair’s sticking up, there’s food at the corner of his mouth, his shirt’s old and twisted at the neck, and Jinyoung still really, really likes him. He looks away. “He said he told you.”

“Uh,” Jinyoung says, scrambling for his phone. There, among the many _sorry!!!!_ s Jackson had sent him last night after their phone call, is one _sorry!!!!!!!!_ , sent twelve minutes after all the others and with twice the number of exclamation marks. Jinyoung should’ve known. “Okay,” he says, taking a deep breath. “Look, it doesn’t have to be a thing—” 

“Jinyoung,” Jaebum says, interrupting him. He follows that up with a hand on Jinyoung’s ankle, which is such a lucid, sudden manifestation of Jinyoung’s exact fantasies that he wonders for a second if maybe he’s dreaming still. “Look at me.”

Jinyoung kind of doesn’t want to, but he can be brave. He should be. When he looks, Jaebum is smiling, not trying to look cool at all. The blush has officially migrated to his chest, occupied now by a jackhammer. “What are we doing?” Jinyoung asks.

Jaebum has already started leaning in. “Going for it,” he says, easy.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you everyone for your patience ♡


End file.
